The Marks You Left
by Victory Thru Tears
Summary: Co-written with Stepherz. Another Charlie/Adam slash. After they've broken up and gone their separate ways, is getting back together really an option?


**Title:** The Marks You Left  
**Authors:** Stepherz and Victory Thru Tears  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language and slash. Maybe it'll go up in the future.  
**Dedication:** Everyone that reviewed us nicely for all of our other fics. Specifically, Starry and Joyful. We love them *grin*  
**Disclaimer:** By this time, everyone should know that we don't own the Ducks. We own Koon and Maya, and anyone you don't recognize from the three Duck films.   
**Summary:** Another Adam/Charlie slash. After they've broken up and gone their separate ways, is getting back together really an option?   
**Notes:** It's funny that Steph said she was leaving the fandom. And two days later I post this. *laughs* Shameless plug -- go check out her "Scarlette Scroll", it's done, about a year and a half after it was started.   
Until then, here you go!

Chapter One: The First in a Long Time

**Adam's POV**

I tapped my pen against the binding of my notebook, tilting my head slightly to the side as I listened to the jovial clicking sound it made. Was this all that was left for me? Sitting day after day in a classroom of my so-called peers? I didn't care anymore…now that he was gone.

I remembered the night perfectly, as though it was constantly replaying in my mind.

It had been a crisp autumn afternoon, and all had been normal, maybe even better than normal. I loved the days where we could laze around, not caring who or what passed by and saw us, or made a lurid remark… I felt completely elated when we were open like that, despite the lack of tolerance shown to us.

Sometimes, I had wondered whether or not we would ever make it, once our term with the Ducks had been served. We had grown apart from them, and they became the people we could, at some point in time, confide in…but no longer were they to be our confidants. We were alone, as far as we were concerned.

It was the times that I could rest my head on his chest, and listen to his heart as it provided a soft, lulling beat to spiral me into the depths of sleep. His strong arms around me, his lips as they brushed over mine, the way he told me he loved me…all things I would never forget.

It all had all ended so fast.

After the storm of emotion, the time we'd finally admitted our feelings to each other and ourselves, nothing had been the same. We were closer. I thought nothing could tear us apart. But there were a few forgotten things that his remorse couldn't erase. His temper had always been a deep-willed conviction inside of him. I'd learned to work around it, so not to get the brunt of his mood on a particularly draining day.

His temper was the _real_ storm…the storm that would drive us apart.

We could both see it happening before it actually did. He was there, now, yet not. He had changed, and his change made him a stranger to me.

True, when people grow apart, things like that happen…but it was supposed to happen to us. We were supposed to be the people that everyone envied, because of our dedication to each other.

Little had I known of his change of heart, and the deep-wounding accusations that would follow this evaluation.

He wanted nothing more to do with me. He called me sick, and told me I needed help. He cried out, how could you, Adam? He murmured the supposed crime to my startled ears. He told me he couldn't stand to live with the burden any longer…that was we had meant nothing, now that he had served his purpose for me.

But this was not the case. No infidelity had been made, no dishonesty, and most certainly no lack of commitment. I was in love…real, true, untainted love. And these words which seemed to flow with practiced ease from his lips, did not change the way I felt for him. Although I did wonder, how long he had been rehearsing these lines, maybe scrounging up the courage to confront me…

It would have all been fine if he had allowed me the time to recite my lines…my lines of denial, and love.

He was everything I'd ever dreamed of. He was everything I would ever need. He was supportive, loyal, faithful, and through it all, I know he still cared. In hindsight, I could see that hockey was more than a menial obstacle.

He never asked me to choose, but I felt it necessary. Hockey meant a lot to me…it had been my source of content and focus, until he came along.

And when he came along, the sparks did more than fly. They took the veil away from my childish demeanor, and showed me the path I was to follow. I had to make this work, for both of us, for our benefits.

So I left hockey behind. He told me, that he didn't understand it…that I was the one who had enough talent to make something of myself. He knew that before him, my dreams had been only of flying down the ice, geared with a pro logo, stick in hand, puck in possession, the racy screams of the fans enclosing me as the adrenaline soared through my body, pushing me forward.

He knew that feeling just as well as I did. He knew its addictive flavor. He didn't know, however, that I was more than willing to give it all up, if it meant my vision would not be clouded. Hockey didn't matter anymore, now that I had finally found my calling.

I could understand why he wouldn't give it up. It didn't bother me. We had time to spend together, more time than ever before.

However, I couldn't understand what he meant when he said he'd paid all his dues, and now he was a free man. Had I been blinded through the entire duration of our relationship? Was I really that naïve?

Maybe I was…maybe love had blinded me, and sent me on a crash coarse lesson in life. Maybe I was too trusting. Maybe I hadn't let him know how I felt.

One thing was clear to me, though…I should have told him I loved him more often than I had.

But would he have really done these things, if he hadn't known, or felt the same way.

I could recap the various nights, the nights we'd spent together, the nights the sweat dripped from our bodies, the words harsh from our tongues, the weight of intimacy heavy in the room. The nights we confessed our love, more than once or twice.

Thoughts of those times left my spine tingling, and my hands shaking ever so slightly. 

They left me longing, yearning, wishing, and hoping…

I cleared my throat, gently finding the strength to close my thoughts. Perhaps this would be a grand beginning; it felt good to share my thoughts on him…even if the exchange was only between myself and a pad of paper.


End file.
